Friday, July 8, 2011

More Ugly Jigs that Work Great: Part Two

Now here is an elegant jig. A perfect melding of species, craft and drywall screws!

I've posted before about grinding drill bits, and I've shown a lot of students the method. Over the years, I started to see the limits of the grinds, some too aggressive in softwoods, some too slow in hardwoods. So when I decided to make a drill bit grinding jig, I finally had some idea of how it should work.

I chose an 8 degree angle for the center spur, which is made by attaching the "fence" to the bottom of the guide at a 4 degree angle. (thanks Tim for pointing out the doubling effect!).

Then it's just a matter of setting the angle of the tool rest. (If you haven't seen the basic grinding method, which remains the same, check out this post.)

I found that an 18 degree angle works great in hardwoods for drilling armrails blowout free, and that an 11 degree angle will slow a 5/8" bit down enough to cut pine without chewing it to bits. All that's left is to set some rare earth magnets into the base to get rid of the pesky clamps.

This photo is of jigs (sort of), but hardly the ugly kind! Andy Jack helped me make these for my class that starts tomorrow. They are available for sale to the students, and if we have any left, I will post them here. The wood for these was a gift from my friend Peter Krupowicz, I believe it's bubinga. Anyway, they are gorgeous and work beautifully.

The other things that are working these days are my chickens. I have been letting them free range lately and the egg yolks have turned from yellow to a burnt orange color! What a difference grass and bugs make!

Here they are enjoying a dirt bath. When I walk into the yard, they all run up to me like dogs. If I go to get the mail, I have to trick them so they don't follow me into the road. It's a humbling moment when you have to think before outsmarting a chicken.

Your chicken story reminds me of the days when we kept sheep. When I came home from work they would all start bleating. We lived right across the street from the store in tiny Roxbury, VT and the old gents on the store's porch always had some rowdy jokes to make about why they were bleating.

So, what are the chickens' names? I had a chicken for a pet as a child. Her name was Biddy. She gave us an egg a day, but my brother and I wouldn't eat them. She rooster on the back porch and on the weekends when Daddy slept late (he fed her early every morning) she would walk around and around the house clucking wanting to be fed. That's what happens when Easter chicks grow up.

I would love to have some chickens now, but I don't think the neighbors would be real happy about it.

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Warning

Woodworking is inherently dangerous. The techniques described in Chair Notes are attempted at the risk and liability of the reader. Often in images, safety guards are omitted for clarity. It is the responsibility of the reader to use all safety devices including eye protection.